


The Refusers

by celer



Category: Wonder Woman (Movies - Jenkins)
Genre: Gen, Spitefic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28381332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celer/pseuds/celer
Summary: The big wishes were returned and undone. The people who raised giant walls and armies saw the folly of their ways. But not everyone agreed.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	1. The Old Woman

When Diana Prince gets a call from Maxwell Lorenzano, to say that she’s surprised would be putting it very very mildly.

“Why are you calling me?”

“Diana, Diana, not everyone renounced their wish!”

“What on earth are you talking about? They did! I felt them! And the world healed!”

“Most people did, Diana. The presidents and the commanders did, the people who wanted their spouses dead did. But I swear I felt something, some remnant of the Dreamstone’s power. You saw my notes, didn’t you? Please, believe me, I felt it.”

“Where are you? And who?”

He rattled off an address. Diana did not bother to be careful: she was a daughter of Themyscira, and with her power restored nothing in Man’s World was going to seriously threaten her if no god was involved. And if one was, she’d rather know about it sooner rather than later.

When she arrived, it was at a beaten down hotel a little west of DC. Maxwell Lord was babbling, more than usual. “I didn’t do it, I swear, I haven’t granted a wish, just felt it.”

“Do you know who it is?”

“Yes. I was touring the hospital after my donation, and I felt a connection to one of the patients. I can’t quite explain it, but I think she held on to her wish. If I’m wrong I’m so so sorry, but I couldn’t bear to see the world destroyed again.”

“We’ll get over this ‘donation’ later: take me to her.”

\-----

“I recognize you. You spoke to me, on the Day of Wishes, last year. Fuck you. Fuck off.”

“What do you mean? You’re barely surviving: just look at yourself. What could be worth it?”

“Have you been a mother?”

“No, I have never had that honor. What is this about? What did you wish for?”

“I was. Once. I loved my daughter dearly. I imagine your mother loved you. Kept you safe, raised you well, taught you right from wrong? Not perfect, perhaps, but she raised someone strong and brave, someone who protects the world. I imagine she gave you the best life she could.”

“Yes. My mother, Hippolyta, was a good woman, and a good mother. It wasn’t always easy, and I wish I’d been a better daughter for her, but she was a great mother.”

The other woman, haggard, coughs. Her skin is flaking off of her: she traded her health to Lord, Diana suspects, as the man looks even better than he did the day he met her, back at the Smithsonian.

“I tried to do that for my daughter. Teach her right from wrong. Teach her to be strong and independent. And keep her safe. I failed at the last one.”

“It is a terrible thing, to lose a child before their time. I can’t imagine your loss.” Diana struggles, really. She’s aware that this existed, she’s talked with mothers after wars, but it has always remained somehow unimaginable to her.

“Lose! Lose! Like some accident. I did not lose my daughter. She was taken from me! That bastard took my daughter, raped her and then harassed her for daring to try to fight back.” She sobs. “If only I’d taught her less well. I taught her to be strong, independent, and to try to do good. She told me it wasn’t about her, it was about every other woman who might be in danger in the future.”

“I’m so sorry. Who was it? I can bring him to justice.”

At first she’d thought the woman was old, perhaps in her 80s, but as she pays attention Diana realizes that this is a younger woman, old before her time. Maybe 50, certainly no younger, at least before she sacrificed her health to Maxwell Lord. “That’s a funny idea. He was a colonel in the air force. Took a liking to a nurse. What could I have done? I was just an old widow, surviving on a pension. I tried to go to the cops and they laughed at me. I tried to go to the newspapers and they told me they couldn’t verify my ‘story’.”

She smiles, and it is a satisfied smile, if not a pleasant one. “I tried to go to Maxwell Lord, and from him I got what I wanted.”

Diana gasps. “General Smith! That was not justice! He was tortured!”

The woman snorts. “I didn’t want justice. I wanted revenge. And now I finally have it. If I traded my health away, is that not the right of the old to die for the young?”

Diana takes a step back, and then recovers her composure. Maxwell Lord is silent, stony. “This isn’t for anyone! This isn’t right. How does this help his family, his other victims?”

“What do I care? Damn the other victims. I have my revenge, and I will die happy.”

“But this isn’t right! Would your daughter want this?”

“Do not speak to me of her. Likely not: she was a good girl, a good woman. I’m just a spiteful old bitch who tried to get justice for twenty years, and was denied. Now go: I have outlived everyone else I give a damn about. I do not regret my wish.”

Diana looks at the lasso, still wrapped loosely around her leg. She could kill the woman, undo the torture, and restore everything to what it was.

She walks away.


	2. The Young Mother

“Again?”

“Yes.”

“Where are you? I’ll be there tomorrow: I’m assuming it isn’t an emergency.”

At this point they almost have it down to a routine. Max can’t spend all his time looking for his victims, but he runs into one every few months or so on his travels, and when he does he gives her a call. They are getting to be fewer and fewer. With his own wish undone the wishes of the dead unravel naturally. 

They meet. He looks a little worse, not every time, but every time they succeed. He seems happier now, and Diana is glad. The gods have defined the proper place for everyone, and his quest for more exceeded that. He seems happier now that he’s accepted his position. Yes, America is certainly less egalitarian than Themyscira, but the gods have decreed different ways for different peoples, and trying to defy them was an error. Seeing someone accept their role brings her joy.

It is good to pursue excellence within your role, of course. But trying to pass yourself off as a different race and seeking more than you needed? He was working at some other company, Stagg Enterprises she thought, as a travelling salesman. It was a good role for him: it gave him time to spend with his family, and he could pursue a measure of success, as was proper. He complained about his bosses, of course: they were unwilling to promote Maxwell Lorenzano, even with his new appearance. But it was better that he not rise too high: it gave him time to be with his son, and she saw how much joy that brought them both.

She shows up in full regalia: it promotes a clearer response. She’s almost gotten used to the swears. She keeps on trying.

“What was your wish? Why did you do this?”

“I wanted him back.”

Diana smiles. Here’s someone she can connect with, hopefully. “I did too. I lost my lover 40 years ago, in the war, and I missed him so badly. That was my wish, you know. I wanted him back.”

“You lost a man 40 years ago? Were you five?”

“I’m an Amazon. My people are blessed by the gods: we do not age.”

“So you lost a man you would have lost eventually to old age, and couldn’t get over him, and then you gave him up again.”

“Yes. I had to. I would have had to accept his death eventually. People die, Jane. That is the truth.” 

“Except you. I’ve seen footage of one of your fights. You shrug off bullets and don’t age.”

“I am an unusual case. But you have to accept who you are, and stop trying to defy the rules.”

“HE WAS MY SON!” She stops, almost shocked by her own outburst. “It was malaria. You would have been immune, I imagine, above diseases as much as you’re above aging and bullets.”

“Yes, I am thankful for my blessings.”

“He was my son. I held him in my arms as he died of a disease you could never have gotten. And you tell me I should just accept it? Just give in?”

“That is the truth. And the truth is all there is. Your world cures more diseases every day. Taking shortcuts like the Dreamstone is wrong.”

“He was dead. And now he lives. A mother sacrificing her life for her son is a tale as old as time. You tell me I shouldn’t have?”

“Where is he? Your son? Even the wishes that the Dreamstone grants with a fixed price always have a catch, a twist, a turn that makes them not what you wanted.”

“He doesn’t want anything to do with me. He’s off with his own friends. He doesn’t call, doesn’t visit.”

“Don’t you see? It grants wishes, but it twists them. You wanted your loving son back, and he isn’t.”

“I don’t care. He’s back. If he doesn’t love me any more, well at least he’s still alive. He is my son!”

She walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, in case there was any doubt: I really don't endorse Diana's views. I do think that they're period-typical and reflect the underlying values of the movie, which tell a Mexican-American kid who grew up to make it big that he asked for too much, and should have settled for less.

**Author's Note:**

> I was angry, and then I was still angry, and then I was angry some more, so I wrote this. Opinions of characters are always not my own, but in particular I'm not endorsing Diana's viewpoint.


End file.
